


While We Live, Let Us Live

by Immi



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Amnesia, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 16:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13239669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immi/pseuds/Immi
Summary: Ymir survives passing on the Jaw Titan, but at a cost. Historia remembers, Ymir doesn't, and love doesn't care.





	While We Live, Let Us Live

**Author's Note:**

> That AU tag isn't really one I should be using, since I'll be holding out hope for Ymir's return until the series ends, but it gets the point across fastest. In some random Good End universe, plot complications are ignored to have a vaguely plausible reunion between Historia and Ymir. Yay.
> 
> Apparently I find toying with these two and memory fun.
> 
> Written when 100 was the latest chapter release.

There was a certain creep factor in meeting people who knew more about you than you knew about yourself.

Ymir had mostly gotten used to it, with Reiner, but Reiner was the kind of wet blanket who liked to pretend he never knew her, and just happened across some stray Eldian amnesiac alongside the road and thought throwing his influence around to get her a private hospital bed was the sort of thing anyone would do every day, for all sorts of reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with guilt.

If she had any memories at all, she could have probably had a lot of fun with that. It was a little harder when she didn’t have a clue what had gone wrong in her life to land her in his care.

She had more than a clue nowadays. She had a whole classified military file on all the ways she was supposed to be dead. Not so many words on all the ways she survived. Civil disobedience and paperwork weren’t exactly pals.

Nothing in it bothered to explain why the so-called heroes of the latest Eldian war knew her by name and looked about ready to pop into tears at the sight of her.

Reiner said they were friends.

Pock told her to stop looking at him like he had the answers just because he had a bit of her old life playing back in his head. He’d said a few more unflattering things when she pointed out that he did have the answers, he was just a recalcitrant ass about it thanks to his hate-on for Reiner.

Like he even knew anything about her parents’ breeding habits. For all any of the people she met knew, including her, she could have spawned out of midair and ended up with the same crappy life that led her into theirs.

That was a thing that was actually in the file she wasn’t supposed to have. She was technically older than all these people, which made it plainly obvious how little respect anyone she associated with had for their elders. It also came with the perk of the majority of the life she couldn’t remember not meaning a damn thing to anything with a pulse.

It was those few years after she’d gone to town on Pock’s brother that caused the issues, these days.

The day of wasn’t some bastion of good will either, but it wasn’t like Pock ever wanted to be in the same room as her anyway.

Minus that one time where he thought he’d be returning the favor she’d paid his brother.

Most of what she heard in Marley about her previous life was gory and angsty enough that she got by just fine not remembering a whit of it. As far as she could tell, that was something everyone else would kill for. She was the only person she knew who didn’t wake up screaming five times a week over one thing or another. Usually related to the things they had killed for.

She was counting her new old friends in that list.

The ones who did care about her not remembering them.

Thanks to her having some kind of life after gobbling down Pock’s brother.

A life that she hadn’t totally ruined, from the sound of things, and by how distraught some of the creepers were when they first tackled her to the ship deck. The bald kid could barely get a word out.

Then he had, and so came the picture of how she totally had ruined her life.

She’d gone from a hospital ward to the frontlines of a battlefield trying to keep Reiner from ending up in a very different hospital ward in the blink of an eye, so she couldn’t really be shocked that she’d followed a similar path of personal destruction once upon a time.

Though it came across like it’d cost her a lot more than just her memories.

Or it’d cost someone they liked more a lot more than just Ymir’s memories.

She must have heard the name a million times that first damn hour back in their company.

His _tor_ ia.

Past the hugging and the sobbing, that was all anyone could say to her. Even Reiner was hung up on it. His version came with a lot more horror and a shipload of new guilt she never asked about, but the impression Ymir got was the same either way: Her life basically revolved around this girl, and that was really important so she should care.

Oh yeah, and the girl was the queen of the place they were headed. Also known as the kingdom that rained bloody armageddon over all of their heads. In case the emotional heft she didn’t feel hadn’t gotten the Importance across.

Between Reiner and the gloomy Titan who needed a haircut (and the bald kid, and the girl who had joined him in tackling her halfway into the ocean), only one part of the tragedy held any kind of relevance.

She was not going to enjoy meeting Historia.

Somehow, in a life she didn’t remember, this one girl had done such a number on her that she’d almost killed herself for her a dozen odd times, including an incident where she took on a shrieking mass of hungry titans and got a few limbs torn off, and really, everything she heard was mostly good for convincing her that more tears and even less comfort with her lack of memories awaited.

And Reiner and his crew were on such thin ice that she’d have to be more of a dick than she thought she wanted to be to diss the queen outright.

All in all, the hospital room hadn’t been so bad.

 

* * *

 

What might have been more creepy than hanging out with a bunch of people who know more about yourself than you ever will, was meeting Historia Reiss.

“Might,” was pretty damn generous.

The first disturbing thing was that she was pretty.

Start-wars-over-it pretty. Not that any place she could remember being needed much of a reason to begin with.

She moved with the same grace all the Paradis folks had. Like the gear they wore was just for show, and they could rise up into the air at a thought. She’d seen that flight in action. She wouldn’t mind giving it a shot. Reiner said she had the training for it.

This girl, though. Blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight, longer than most of her soldiers wore it; face way too tense for those flowing steps; and a soft voice that carried commands into every ear. She had to be half the size of everyone on the ship. She was even shorter than that prized fighter of theirs.

Ymir was not interested in staring at the girl she’d given up everything for. She didn’t have much everything left, and what she did have was all hers, not whatever she’d been before’s.

She stared.

She didn’t have her memories. She wasn’t naive enough to think that was open to change. Pock had them, and in return she still had a beating heart. No refunds. Life was stingy like that.

That beating heart of hers went into overdrive anyway.

Just with a look.

It lasted a lifetime, since her eyes somehow forgot how to blink, but it was still only one look. One look for her chest to ache with want, and pain, and something so glorious that there wasn’t enough room inside of her to hold it.

That was before Historia looked back.

That was before Ymir took a single step forward and was paralyzed by a beauty that outshone the world.

Someone had to have warned the little queen. No one would be cruel enough to let her believe it was a real reunion between her and her loved one. Every word people had bounced at Ymir had love laced between. These people, the ones she knew once, were a family, and there was no way they wouldn’t look out for this girl.

She had to have known, when she first looked Ymir in the eye.

This wasn’t the girl she knew.

This wasn’t the girl she loved.

Just some ancient war token that no one knew what to do with.

She smiled anyway.

The steps Ymir couldn’t take vanished under her quick feet, and she had to know, she _had to_ , but she was smiling, and beautiful, and there was no one else in her eyes. The world shrunk to hold the two of them, a blistering haze of joy outstripping every pain Ymir had never felt.

“You don’t remember me,” Historia Reiss said, gentle warmth exuded with every word, brightness and victory trailing a moment behind, “but my name’s Historia.”

She held out her hand.

Before their fingers even grazed, Ymir knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she’d be willing to die for this girl all over again.

The terror of it wasn’t enough to change that.

 

* * *

 

People were not meant to be this nice.

Ymir knew that what few years she had of life to look back on weren’t the greatest indicator of human behavior, but as near as she could tell, there was no excuse in the world for Historia to beam like the sun every time they happened to make eye contact. Blinding, unnecessary, and enough to make her feel like she was waking up after some extended hibernation.

Anything Ymir needed was taken care of without a word. Want a warm bed? Regular meals? Done. Want to steer clear of all the political crap every single person who knew her name had gotten embroiled in? Super. Want to wander around outside without being watched for once? Too bad, but hey, it was time for the guards to have stealth practice anyway.

It wouldn’t have been so weird if Historia actually talked to her. Whatever people skills the Paradis queen had, they stalled out at smiles and staring when they were together.

Ymir wanted to say she was better, and she was, because she just stuck with the staring, but the whole thing was getting on her nerves.

"What’s the problem, Ugly? She’s happy you’re back.”

Ymir flicked a pebble at Connie’s head, lounging on a boulder by the field where his mother was staying. The tiny guy’s only remaining family was a titan, free to live a life tied to the ground and starving.

Like a normal person, that made him miserable. One of her other new old friends, Sasha, came with him sometimes to visit the neglected parent, but he mostly went by himself. Until Ymir started inviting herself along. They were both surprised by that.

He kicked her when she’d first met the last titan, hidden away in some unused farm space, and said she could see the family resemblance. Because this relationship actually made sense, and didn’t strangle her heart or kill all her higher brain function.

“She knows I don’t remember her, right? She’s doing this for some stranger who couldn’t care less about her or all her damage.”

Connie shrugged, watching his mother. Despite logic laughing at him for thinking gestures like that mattered, his mother was looking back. She never saw anything else when he was around.

Was everyone on this damn island broken?

“For someone who doesn’t care, you sure spend a lot of time whining about it,” he said, popping the lid on his canteen. “You’re as bad as you used to be with her, you just mope instead of jumping off buildings.”

Ymir rolled her eyes, a flush of indignant heat finding her. “I don’t know a thing about her except that she’s too damn nice. What kind of starting point is that?”

Connie tossed the pebble she’d flicked over back at her. “If it bugs you so much, why don’t you just talk to her? Like one of those normal people you’re always saying you are.”

“Yeah, since normal people have the Queen waiting at their beck and call. She just hangs out waiting for them to need her so she can bend over backwards to make their lives better.” She plucked Connie’s canteen out of his hands and took a sip. “We’re all devils. Where did you even find someone like her?”

Connie gave her the look everyone around her liked handing out when they were thinking how much simpler their lives would be if she could remember hers. “In whatever hole you pushed her out of.”

 

* * *

 

Ymir decided to wait on telling Connie she was taking his advice. Then when it all went terribly she could just laugh at him instead of having to put up with his encouraging her. Like she really needed someone’s hand to hold over a simple conversation.

A simple conversation that several diplomatic meetings got rearranged over.

If people didn’t keep telling her how much she’d meant to their reigning monarch, a three-second examination of any choice Historia had made since Ymir showed up on her island would have cleared it up just fine.

Ymir sat on the desk in the room she’d chosen for this little talk. Her first thought was to play it down and use her room. Then she thought about how she reacted to the girl when they weren’t in private and kicked an aide out of his office.

When Historia walked in, guards positioned safely out of sight, she congratulated herself on her choice, because she had common sense even if she didn’t have her memories, and she would not survive having this girl in her personal space.

She was beautiful. Even before the smile she saved for Ymir came out.

With it, Ymir had never heard of common sense, never knew it, and would need a full reintroduction for it to have a prayer of influencing her life. If there was any justice they hadn’t defiled in the world, it and Historia would switch places.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

_Every second of every day for the rest of my life._

It was disgusting how fast she could go from zero to sap with Historia in the room. Everyone expecting it almost made her want to look at her old memories so that she’d have some idea of how some girl she could lift over her head with one arm had her so completely whipped.

Ymir focused on keeping her slouch against the desk casual. “Yeah, I did.”

How did someone with such an honest face get into politics? Oh right, nepotism. Historia had enough practice to hide the jolt of hope that flashed across her face, but Ymir, since the staring still wasn’t a thing she had control over, caught it.

“About anything in particular?” Historia asked. She was even worse at keeping the longing out of her voice.

One of the major players in finding world peace, and she couldn’t go a minute without melting in front of the girl she liked. That should have evened the playing field, but all it did was bring out a skipping heartbeat Ymir didn’t need.

“You rearranged your whole day for a talk with some nobody and you don’t know what it’s about? With strategic planning like that, I can see why everyone wants you in charge,” Ymir said.

She liked that look in the Queen’s eyes. That spark of challenge that she was too sweet and sugary to let out. Almost as much as her body liked the shroud of dark sincerity that whisked it away.

“You’re not nobody,” Historia said. Looking straight into Ymir, and somehow believing that with the same earnest intensity that empires fell against.

Ymir looked away. Parchment crumpled under her balled hands, and Historia took another couple of steps forward. She didn’t have to look to know that. It was like her whole body was wired to know where she was, and want her closer.

“What are you getting out of this?” she grumbled.

She knew what Historia was. Someone worth staring at. Someone who moved mountains for her and made her heart glow and never asked for a damn thing in return.

But that was just it. The way everyone else saw it, she was an incomplete version of someone they all cared for. They were all sad there wasn’t more to her, even if they tried to hide it. They sucked at hiding things. They wanted their friend back. Even Connie, and he was the one who was willing to be friends with the new her anyway. The person she lived knowing herself to be wasn’t enough for any of them, and they thought lying about that was less painful than coming out and saying it.

Except for Historia.

The person everyone kept telling her cared most.

The person standing right in front of her, the pain all of this should have been putting her through nowhere in sight, because she was that nice, or that practiced at stashing it under warm smiles and kindness that belonged to someone else, or that _stupid_.

“You,” Historia said. “I get you.”

Ymir vaulted from the desk and grabbed Historia by the neck of her dress, temper clenching her fists and heart bleeding all over the blatant idiocy that made it sing.

“That person,” she said, pointedly, “isn’t even here anymore.”

Letting go might have been the smart choice. She didn’t. She leaned in close, looking for the moment when all the awe-inspiring, glorious love remembered who was standing in front of it, and turned to pain. Heat raced through her, stinging her eyes.

She’d never once seen this girl in the agony that life demanded from her. It was there, and raw, and overpowering, because it had to be, but all she got was smiles and joy, and remembering fewer years than everyone else didn’t mean she was born yesterday.

She glowered down at Historia, waiting, waiting, and completely unable and unwilling to stop her mouth from running. Or the steadily rising volume.

“Stop acting like you’re okay with all of this. Like me being alive is enough for you. You’re pretending that it’s all fine, because I made it through and that’s all you wanted, but that’s crap, and we both know it. You don’t want me alive, you want _me_.” Ymir breathed in heavily, holding back the bitter laughter. “Only guess what, that version's not here anymore. She up and ditched you. Your girlfriend left, and all that came back was some empty husk!”

She threw her hand down from gripping Historia’s dress. The little queen’s expression had gone blank, and part of her relished in destroying all of the good feelings that being together brought to life in her. She shook her head, and bared her teeth in a grin she’d never felt less.

“What the fuck is wrong with you that you’re not pissed about that?”

Historia’s head slammed into her jaw.

Ymir saw stars.

Her head snapped back, feet sliding out from under her, back crashing into the desk. The rest of her should have followed, but a rough hand grabbed her by the front of her shirt before she could fall, and the next thing Ymir was aware of was the floor.

The floor, and Historia on top of her, chest heaving, and none of the ruinous pain in sight. Just a firestorm of rage that Ymir’s small fit had nothing on.

All directed at her.

“Fine,” she said, spitting the word out venomously. “ _Fine_. You left. You left and got yourself killed, and I don’t know if you’re ever going to remember me, or who you were, and if you had just _stayed_ , none of this would be happening.” Her hands shook around Ymir’s collar. Ymir wanted to blame them on her inability to breathe. “But you didn’t. You ran off being stupid and noble, and all you had to say about it was one letter telling me you were going to die.”

Her voice cracked. “And now you’re here. You’re here and alive, and if you hadn’t sold off all your memories, maybe you’d understand why that’s enough.

“I don’t need you to be mine. I don’t need you to remember who I am. I don’t even need you to like me!”

The shouting hit a snag, Historia’s grip on Ymir’s shirt having yanked them thoroughly into the same air. Her eyes glittered with several years worth of tears, and damn it all, Ymir thought they were pretty enough before they started shining like the frigging night sky.

Teardrops landed on her cheek. Rolling down her face instead of Historia’s.

Ymir didn’t know what to make of the ones joining in from her eyes.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” Historia said. Her voice warbled, but the same steel Ymir caught in every one of her speeches was out in force. Though it had never really felt like this. Hard and intimate, with every word belonging to Ymir’s ears only. “You’re here and not dead, and I’m _happy_. Being with you--being near you, hearing your voice, watching you smile or roll your eyes or pull some idiotic stunt... I thought all of that was gone forever. I thought you were only a memory, and all I’ve done for the past four years is wonder when I’d lose that, too, and how a world without you could ever make sense.”

She blinked rapidly, scattering more tears and glaring at Ymir like this whole mess was her fault.

Maybe for the first time, Ymir appreciated how much it definitely was.

_“I love you_ ,” Historia declared.

“You don’t get to say that doesn’t matter just because you don’t remember loving me back.”

She let go. With vigor. Ymir’s skull thudded against the floor, and the Queen of Paradis stood up from straddling her and stomped out the room. The slamming door barely registered.

Ymir lay there. Her fingers absently wound around a thread Historia’s hands had wrung free from her shirt. If any other part of her was needed, it was gonna have to wait in line.

She’d walked away from that girl once.

Of her own free will.

What the _fuck_.

 

* * *

 

Ymir decided not to tell Connie any of it.

He retaliated by not commenting on her bruised face.

She sat on her rock, watching him watch his mom, stewing in every horrible decision the last idiot running her body had made, along with the several she could take credit for.

“I wrote her a letter?”

Connie’s head snapped her way, and he was nowhere as good as Historia at disguising the hope in his eyes. “You remember?”

“Not so much. A little birdie brought it up.” Loudly.

Connie wilted, but not as much as Sasha would have. And without the crippling depression Reiner had reacted with. He had more feelings tied up in that letter than Historia did. Unfortunately, now that people were letting him be a good boy, he thought it wasn’t his place to tell her what’d been in it.

Her more well-adjusted buddy looked similarly uncomfortable.

“So,” she said, “you know what it was about?”

“I don’t know what was on it,” he admitted slowly. “But I think it was a private thing. For both of you."

Ymir shifted uncomfortably on top of the boulder, glancing up at the sky. “What, confessing my love before I kicked it?”

“Maybe?”

“Great, I’m sure that wasn’t emotionally scarring at all.”

Connie didn’t say anything. He’d been one of the people present when Pock and Historia first crossed paths. Before the end of the war. Ymir didn’t know everything about that, but she’d heard the stories.

The idea of someone she didn’t know being that broken up over her had bothered her at the time.

Now she had a memory of what Historia crying looked like, and a new reason to be bothered.

She left the field without Connie.

 

* * *

 

Historia’s guards didn’t even have the decency to look suspicious when she knocked on her bedroom door in the middle of the night. These weren’t people any version of her had met. They just had a natural expectation that she’d want to talk to their supreme leader at random, inconvenient times, and were perfectly okay with that.

They probably had orders to be perfectly okay with that.

Ymir probably wasn’t intended to find that sort of hot. She tried not to. It was aggravating, not compelling. Some other her was the one who’d tripped herself down a hill falling for Historia. Her approach still had some dignity to it.

She didn’t completely dissolve into mush when Historia opened the door in a sleepy stupor. She thought she might, but the edge Historia’s eyes took on before losing out to the relief she carried around like a banner was the type of attractive that commanded attention.

“Hi,” Ymir said. “Invite me in?”

Historia waited a few seconds. Enough to fully remind both of them how their last visit went, and enough for Ymir to wonder if there was some protocol she was meant to follow after getting in a shouting match with royalty. Which might have been the point. But the moment passed, and Historia stepped aside with an eyeroll that had too much softness in it to be effective.

Ymir followed her in.

She had never been in Historia’s bedroom before.

She wasn’t going to think about that. She took in the scenery instead.

Windows covered an entire wall, thick curtains drawn carelessly over them so a crack of moonlight splayed over the floor. Oversized furniture was shoved into corners, and the wealth everything was covered in only made the total lack of personal touches stand out more.

Except for the floor, which was covered with the disemboweled remains of a bed. The amount of fluff stripped from the actual bed was enough to get lost in. Impossibly cushy and warm, and stacked high enough to be a tripping hazard. Fit for a queen, even if the one in question wasn’t interested in using any of it. Ymir wondered if any of the maids ever tried to complain, or if Historia put it all back each morning before anyone saw.

Historia stepped over the pile without a thought, plopping back on her bed and sitting against the headboard. Her eyes were half shut, but Ymir could feel them on her. Taking in every tense muscle and scar. Trailing up and down with something a little past affection and deep into trouble. Ymir crossed her arms and started investigating the chandelier hooked to the ceiling.

“You stare at all your guests this way,” she asked blithely, delighting in Historia’s embarrassed jump, “or am I just special?”

She turned back in time to catch the splash of red blossoming in Historia’s cheeks, feeling pleased enough with herself to ignore what she’d think of her face if she had a mirror around. Along with the dangerous corner of her mind looking for Historia to say the magic words one more time.

Historia rubbed at her face, a bit more awake, and a bit less patient. “You wanted something?”

Ymir smirked. “Would you let me stay if I said no?”

“Probably.” Historia closed her eyes fully, resting her head on her fist. Still slumped against the headboard, the covers she hadn’t tossed on the floor were pooled by her feet. Probably where she kicked them aside when she heard the knock on her door. Sloppy, human behavior. Nothing like the goddess all of her staff called her.

It was cute.

It made Ymir’s chest feel like it was going to burst, but still. Cute.

“You said I wrote you a letter.”

And there was that ruined. Historia’s eyes snapped back open, meeting hers. Ymir couldn’t say she cared for that at the moment, so she went back to pretending to care about the wall hangings generations of fake kings had slept under until the real deal showed up. It made the words come easier, and if this was going to be uncomfortable and awkward, there was no reason to draw it out.

“Do you have it around?”

Silence got into her ears. Her heart kept trying to block it out, and didn’t do such a bad job, but the easy, relaxed stillness of the overstuffed bedroom had frosted over.

Bedsprings squeaked.

Feet dropped to the floor.

A drawer slid open.

Ymir waited, anticipating anything from a punch to delicate questions about whether or not this was really a thing she was interested in exposing herself to.

She didn’t get either. A quick tap of parchment landed on her head. The silence stuck with it, but she turned around and pulled the offending item from Historia’s fingers. It was so worn it was almost soft. Keeping with the tactile comfort, Ymir dropped to Historia’s bed and crossed her legs on top of her blankets.

A moment later, the mattress dipped behind her, warmth returning to the night.

Back to back with the person the damn thing was addressed to, Ymir wondered how much of this was a mistake. It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t magically make her the one who wrote the words down.

But she’d known what she was getting into, fixing that arrangement with Reiner. She knew she’d be forgetting everything, even the person she was writing to, and she’d gone for it anyway. In her last days, she’d gone ahead and decided that this mattered.

Some part of her besides her heart had felt worth preserving and handing over to this girl. She’d wanted it to survive even if nothing else did. The last piece of thought from someone who’d understood being wildly in love, and being loved back.

It was hard not to be curious.

She started reading.

“I don’t know how much people have told you,” Historia said, voice following along with the only written record of the life Ymir had given up. “My name was Krista when we first met.”

_But one day, a man showed up and gave me a name._

“My father gave it to me to keep me from dying.”

_All I had to do was take it, and then I was given a fine bed and fed meals_.

“I thought it was the chance to be someone else. Someone better than who I was. The illegitimate child that everyone hated. Someone the world would be better off without.”

_Those adults who, until then, acted like I was invisible, all got on their knees and revered me._

“Krista was what I came up with. Someone everyone would love, who could make people feel better instead of worse. Who could be a hero instead of a disappointment.”

_All I had to do to make everyone delighted and happy was play the role I had been given._

“You were the only one who saw Historia through her.”

_I thought if that’s what would save them..._

“You told me to live my life with pride, under my own name.”

_I opened my eyes again, and spread before me was freedom._

“After you left, I didn’t know how to do that. I didn’t know if I could. ...But I wanted to.”

_From there, I began to walk, and I lived the way I wanted._

“Not for you or anyone else. For myself.”

_I have no regrets._

_Or so I’d like to say_.

Ymir rubbed her thumb over the final message she’d left. The letters were streaky. Someone had spent a long time crying over them to blur the ink that much.

“Then you came back.”

She looked over at the nightstand drawer Historia had pulled the letter from. Against her back, Historia had relaxed enough to rest the back of her head on Ymir’s shoulder. Her breathing was calm and regular.

Ymir looked down at the letter. All the words her hands had written down. Her memoir of a thing no one else alive knew about. Because letting bad memories stay dead was for chumps, and people who liked sleeping through the night once in a while.

She glanced over her shoulder. At Historia.

Who, going by the state of the letter in Ymir’s hands, had the most depressing nighttime ritual in existence.

Because for some reason, she’d agreed with the person who wrote it. That it mattered. That chasing the same dream meant something, even if they never got there.

The air Ymir dragged into her lungs rattled.

“We were alike.”

Historia nodded. The brief loss of the weight on her shoulder made Ymir want to spin around and hold her and never let go. She didn’t.

“You ever think that you should have fallen in love with someone else?”

The insecurity rang more honest than either of them needed, but it wasn’t like she could take it back. She felt Historia’s sigh even though she couldn’t hear it, and braced for the obvious answer.

“...No.”

She managed not to jerk around in shock. Vulnerability came easier when she didn’t have to look at the person causing it. Not that her body language or tone were doing her any favors, but that last step was one too many. She laughed shakily.

“Not much of an imagination, huh?”

Historia shrugged. “Once you were in my heart... that was it,” she said, quietly. Her hand slipped over Ymir’s. “I didn’t even know I was in love. Or what it was at all. There was just you. You’re obnoxious and reckless and a complete idiot, but... you’re the one I’d do anything to be with.”

The hush held them for a moment before she spoke again.

“That’s never changing. I never want it to.”

Ymir closed her eyes. Historia’s fingers laced through hers, thumb circling the back of her hand in soothing circles. “Even if I never remember how it started?”

“As long as you’re here to see how it finishes.”

Knocking their heads together came gently this time. Historia’s barely moved. Her hand was starting to still. “If you mean all those nevers,” Ymir said, “it won’t.”

Historia hummed wordlessly. “That’s okay too.”

Ymir had nothing to say to that.

She squeezed Historia’s fingers.

Historia, halfway back to sleep, squeezed back.


End file.
